


Caramel, California

by blookythecat22



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Awkward Romance, California, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Cute Ending, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt, Established Diana/Bruce Wayne, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Road Trips, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Wonder woman has emotional hurt/baggage, kind of, kinda cute, kinda sad, looking for aquaman, someone buy Bruce Wayne some ex-lax for his emotional constipation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 04:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12380799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blookythecat22/pseuds/blookythecat22
Summary: Bruce and Diana are on a road trip to look for Aquaman on the West Coast. They have a budding romance, but it's slow going. Diana's heart is a mess of old memories and people she left behind, while Bruce is too scared to lose someone to admit he cares.They stop in Carmel-by-the-sea, and tensions escalate.





	Caramel, California

**Author's Note:**

> So...this is a thing I wrote. It's kinda slow, but it's short and sweet. 
> 
> Disclaimer, I have never touched a DC comic in my life, so this is based off of the movies 100% (particularly the recent ones). My headcanon, and the way I wrote this story, is that Diana has spent most of her time on earth since WWI. I think the movies are saying she left? I'm not sure. The DCEU is confusing af. Apologies if I get anything wrong.

“I love this song.” Diana reached up to pull her hair out of its bun--an attempt to stave off the headache that was forming in her temples. They’d already been in the car for five hours, and while the road afforded a beautiful view of the ocean, Diana was starting to get motion sick from the curves.

Bruce turned up the radio. “Fish boy damn well better be here.”

“Getting frustrated?” asked Diana, amused. “Comes with the territory of tracking someone with ocean currents and hearsay.”

Bruce frowned at the road ahead. “I usually have more to go on.”

Diana turned the music a little louder, opened the sun roof and reached her hands up to let the wind kiss her fingertips. Bruce’s car was top of the line--smooth ride, great sound system. Perks of dating a billionaire, apparently. _Dating? Is that what this is?_

She leaned her knee against the door. “I think my favorite feeling in the world is the pounding of the bass through the frame of a car.”

Bruce gave her a nonplussed look, and then glanced away, shaking his head and chuckling.

Diana huffed at him. “What? Why do you laugh at that?”

“You’ve been on earth, observing us, for a century, you’ve seen empires rise and fall, and out of all mankind’s achievements, your favorite is a good bass line?”

Diana settled back in her seat, ran her finger along the edge of the sunroof. “Why not? It pleases me.” She flicked her eyes to Bruce, taking in all the little details of him: the lines around his warm, brown eyes as he squinted into the sun, the firm set of his mouth, the jaw that would seem carved from stone, if not for the ghost of a bruise that marred it.

He only shook his head in response, gaze fixed on the curve of the road where it disappeared around the next white cliff.

“Well, since you don’t approve of my choice…” Diana began, her voice lilting, teasing. “What is _your_ favorite thing about the world?”

Bruce guided the car gently around a sharp turn, readjusted his fists on the steering wheel, ten and two. “Justice.”

Diana laughed, on purpose. She was feeling impetuous today, wanted to tease at Bruce’s irritation like it was an unraveling thread.

She succeeded: that stony jaw clenched, the bruise a sallow lavender in the setting sun. “What’s so funny?”

Diana allowed her mirth to dissolve into a quiet smile, dangerously close to fondness. “Even your lies are endearing.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?”

“Bruce…you’re not wearing the cowl. You can be honest, if you want to.”

Bruce glanced at her. “If you say so.”

“Well? What’s your favorite thing about the world?”

“Maybe it’s you,” he said, his voice even.

“Me?” Diana asked, caught off guard. She shifted in her seat. “You mean our lovemaking?”

“It’s the 21st century, why do you still call it that…”

“Why do you call lovemaking ‘it’?”

Bruce growled in exasperation. “Fine. Sex. Why can’t you just say sex.”

“Is it the word ‘love’ that you object to?”

Bruce clenched his fists harder around the steering wheel, the little white scar on his index finger blending into the bloodless white of his knuckles. He ran his tongue across his top teeth. “Is that what you think this is?”

Diana flinched, imperceptibly. It wasn’t that the words hurt her—it was that they’d been spoken with the intention to hurt. This always happened, every time she tried to bring up a topic with some sentimentality to it. Bruce would turn back around and snap at her, like a wild dog. _The best defense is a good offense. American wisdom for football, war, and love…_

The car was too warm, suddenly. Diana began to struggle with her coat, and Bruce reached over, wordlessly, to help her tug it off. She folded it and laid it across her lap. He turned off the car’s heater.

They sat in silence.

It wasn’t until the sun was a blip of gold on the horizon that he finally spoke again. “I’m sorry, Diana. That was…I’m a bastard sometimes.”

“Sorry doesn’t bring a person back to you once they’re gone. I thought you’d learned that by now.”

He swallowed, hard. She’d hurt him. She wasn’t even sure she’d been trying to, but she had. She turned to look out her window at the last of the sun slipping below the water. Sometimes, right as the sun sank beneath the horizon, there was a flash of green light. She watched for it, unblinking.

The last piece of yellow disappeared, leaving behind a bright, painted sky.

There was no flash of green.

Diana sank back in her seat and shut her eyes. She could feel Bruce’s gaze on her as the sky darkened above them.

 

Carmel, California. A small, quaint town. The name brought to mind bright green apples dipped in candy. Sticky fingers and warm wood, the smell of the sea and a swirl of bright lights as the sun set. She’d been with someone that day, she was sure of it, but she couldn’t remember who. The memory felt like an overdeveloped picture, bright and sun-soaked and faded.

Her mind was a jumble of sentiments and images—a side effect of spending too much time in this world, of leaving too many people behind.

Bruce pulled up outside the hotel and turned off the car. He had neat, practiced movements; she liked watching them. An image of Steve’s hands came unbidden to her mind—his fingers flipping switches in a cockpit, cleaning a gun, tying off a piece of rope. He had such sure, strong hands.

Diana wrapped her arms around herself.

“I’ll get the bags,” Bruce was saying. “You check us in.”

She shook herself, took the credit card he offered her. “I have money.”

“I have a reservation, under Wayne.”

“Fine.” She rose, stretched the cramping muscles in her legs and wrapped her coat back over her shoulders. Then she turned and walked towards the hotel’s office, bending the flimsy plastic of the credit card between her fingers.

 

Bruce was dripping wet and naked, standing over the heater, staring at the closed curtains.

She catalogued him with her eyes, all his little details, every tiny scar and bunch of muscle and fading bruise. She stepped closer, toweling her hair.

“You’re still not dry?”

He didn’t answer.

She came up behind him, let her towel drop to the floor and flattened one of her palms on his back, where his shoulder blades met. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

She reached past him, opened the curtains to look out on the dark parking lot, at the silver semicircle of the moon. “Do you think we’ll find him tonight?”

“Tomorrow.”

Diana sat back on the bed, tracing the indented line of his backbone with her eyes. “Half moon in the sky. Tomorrow is the lowest tide. When the ocean wants you to find things.”

“Sure…?” Bruce turned around, picked up her towel and wrapped it around his waist. “I was just thinking it’s easier to find things when it’s light.”

Diana flopped onto her back on the bedspread, stared up at the dark ceiling. “Do you want to have sex again?”

Bruce grunted from where he was digging through his suitcase. “I wouldn’t call what we did in the shower sex.”

Diana scooted on her back, let her head hang off the end of the bed, let her wet hair trail down. “Was it lovemaking, then? I’m confused.” She was teasing, again, but Bruce just looked at her tiredly as he pulled on his sweatpants.

“I’m going to bed. You can use my card if you want to buy food.”

“You’re what people these days call a buzzkill.” She rolled over, raked her hair back.

Bruce was already pulling back the covers beside her, tossing decorative pillows onto the floor. “Good night, Diana.”

 

Diana wasn’t very hungry, but lying here beneath the stifling comforter, staring at the dark outline of Bruce’s form, was driving her crazy.

She rolled out of bed as carefully as she could, tugged on a pair of soft blue jeans under her T-shirt, and slipped out the door.

She looked down at the room key in her hands—another flimsy plastic card. There was still an absurdity to her in how much this decade loved them—you needed a plastic card to drive a car, to buy an alcoholic drink, to earn ‘rewards’ at the grocery store. Cards for identity, cards for money, cards for opening doors…

They were easy to tuck in your pocket, though.

She headed towards the liquor store on the corner. The door chimed at her as she opened it.

An old Korean woman behind the counter waved at her without looking up from her newspaper. “Hi, there.”

“Hello.” Diana said, her voice oddly warbling in the buzzing brightness. “Do you have…” She looked around the shelves, feeling suddenly stupid. It was a convenience store, of course they wouldn’t have—

“What do you want?” The woman draped her newspaper over the counter, fixed Diana with a sturdy gaze. “I’m sure we have it.”

Diana stepped closer and returned her smile. “Caramel apples? I really want one, but I don’t remember…I mean, I don’t know…” The memory flashed behind her eyes again, along with a feeling of contentment, like floating on her back in the ocean. She could recall the enormous, turning wheel of lights above their heads, the creak of the boards beneath their feet, the smell of cigarette smoke on the collar of a jacket, a hand, soft and sure, on her waist… _whose hand?_

The woman came around the counter, patted Diana’s arm. “I know.” She tottered down the aisle, a veiny hand pulling on her lacy sweater. “Here.” She pulled a bag of candy down and held it out to Diana.

Diana looked down, feeling a smile tug at her mouth. _Caramel Apple Pops._ “This is perfect.”

The woman went back behind the counter, and Diana dug for Bruce’s card.

She tore into the bag of lollipops as the woman rang up her sale, pulled one out, unwrapped it—the wrapper stuck awkwardly to the caramel, and her fingers were sticky by the time she was done. She wiped her hands on the T-shirt before she took the card back.

The woman gestured at her. “Eat. See if you like it.”

Diana closed her eyes and laid it against her tongue. It tasted like a murky sort of sweet, like the warm, sepia brown of an old photograph. And then, beneath it, the bitter tang of apple melted through, sharp, like the flame of a match set to the corners of her memory.

The room spun.

Diana opened her eyes, shook her head. “It’s good, but…I can’t remember what I was trying to.”

The woman nodded slowly. “Memories. Sometimes they lose themselves.”

Diana studied the lines of the woman’s face, the flecks of grey in the roots of her hair. _How many memories are cluttered in her head?_

“Sometimes…” The woman licked her lips as she searched for words. “When you wake up, you half think of a dream? That is how memories can feel.”

Diana quirked her mouth. “I wish I could pick which memories were crisp, and which ones were like smoke.”

The woman shoved the bag of candy towards her. “If you want happy memories, make new ones. Eat candy.”

 

The beach was empty, a moonlit expanse of coarse, gravelly sand and glossy pebbles. She dug her toes in as a glassy wave washed over her feet, soaked the legs of her jeans. She missed home.

She missed Steve, and the boat they’d taken, their quiet conversation, the soft lapping of the water.

She missed that feeling of calm she’d had, that day on the pier, with the racing, blinking lights and the thundering waves.

She turned the stick of the lollipop over in her fingers. It wasn’t fair, how people haunted you through this life. Even though she couldn’t remember the person who had bought her the apple, who had held her close against the wind, she missed them. Or maybe it was the feeling she missed. The feeling of security and contentment.

And really, maybe it was a blessing Steve had left her. She wasn’t sure she could have managed it, leaving him behind.

“Diana.”

She turned. “Bruce. I thought you were sleeping.”

Bruce shrugged, rubbed his hands together as he walked up the beach to her. “You left. I got worried.”

“How sweet.” Diana smiled at him, genuine.

“Aren’t you cold?” He stood beside her, started taking his coat off. He wasn’t wearing anything beneath it.

“Stop, I’m fine—“

He shushed her, wrapped it around her shoulders with insistent hands. “You may be an Amazon, but I’m not standing here watching you shiver while I’m wearing six hundred dollars worth of Burberry wool.”

“You’re so stubborn…” She let him button it around her neck with a fond but irritated smile. “But thank you.”

He put his arm around her in response, hugged her against his side.

The water was a dark, calm expanse, the waves gentle on the slant of the beach.

Diana let her head fall onto his shoulder. “This is nice.”

Bruce sighed; she felt his breath in her hair. “It’s pretty, but I don’t think he’s here. I think he’s north.”

“What if we stayed,” Diana said, ignoring him. “Swam in this water, drove up and down the coast.”

Bruce didn’t let go of her, but he pulled away, enough that Diana straightened and turned to face him. His face looked drawn and pale in the moonlight, his eyes almost accusing in their confusion. “Why here?”

“It’s perfect. It’s just like my home. And nothing like yours.”

“What’s wrong with Gotham?”

Diana huffed a bitter laugh. “Everything, Bruce.” She took a shaky breath of salty night air. “We’ve lost too many people, you and I. Don’t we deserve something nice? Don’t you ever want to rest?”

“Just because something’s nice doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.”

She let go of him and turned away, pulling out of his arms. “You don’t know what’s best for everyone.” She was surprised to feel something like tears pricking the back of her eyes. “Wherever the ‘Aquaman’ is, he’s probably happy. Content. You’re just going to bust onto his shores, demand he come with you and save the world?” She knew what that felt like, and it wasn’t fun. _That’s not fair, Diana._ Not to Bruce, and certainly not to Steve. She’d agreed to this, agreed to leave home, take up the mantle of hero.

She just hadn’t realized it would be so lonely.

“Diana…You asked me earlier what meant most to me, in the world. I never really answered you honestly.”

Diana crossed her arms. She felt his hand on her arm, and shook it off.

Bruce continued, his voice quiet but forceful, as if he had to work to push the words out of his throat. “For me…that thing is my parents. Not them, specifically…all the memories I have of them are foggy…nothing’s as stark as the names carved on their gravestones. But…”

Diana turned to face him. Even these few words were the most he’d told her about the Waynes.

He was staring down at the rocks. “What means something to me is what they wanted for me. Who they wanted me to be. I know I have to live up to that.” He looked up, put his hand on her arm again. “Steve had a vision for you, Diana. And it wasn’t hiding in a tiny beach town, drowning in memories.”

 _How dare he talk about Steve?_ Diana’s breath was quick in her throat, her voice sharp. “And Clark’s mother had a vision for him. And it wasn’t dying young.”

Bruce’s face twisted with pain, and he looked away. She’d hurt him, again. She opened her mouth to apologize when Bruce spoke.

“Clark wasn’t the first person I failed. Or the first person I lost. But if we don’t move past it, make something of ourselves…then their sacrifices meant nothing.”

Diana stared down at the lollipop stick in her hands, the corpse of a memory. _Make new ones._

She really shouldn’t be taking life advice from a guy who branded people in a bat costume, but…Maybe Bruce was right. If she hid, she’d never move on. She tucked the stick in her pocket and cracked her knuckles. “Alright, Bruce.”

Bruce smiled at her, uncharacteristically wide, like a kid on Christmas. “You’ll come with me?”

“Of course.” Diana gave him a half smile, half smirk. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

Diana grabbed his shoulder, pulled him gently towards her. “You have to admit you’re at least a _little_ bit in love with me.”

Bruce’s lips parted in the ghost of a laugh. He threaded his fingers through the back of her hair and she shut her eyes, felt the warm pressure of his lips on hers.

As he pulled away, the wind picked up. He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ears, popped the collar of his coat up around her neck. His eyes twinkled at her in the moonlight. “Don’t hold your breath, Diana.”

She leaned against him, opened the coat so it covered both of their shoulders. He put his arm around her beneath it and they stood, staring out at dark water.

She did her best to notice every detail, the rhythm of his breath, the trickle of the retreating waves over the stones, the wind sighing through the trees on the cliff.

No matter what happened after this night, she was determined to remember this—a new, good memory of caramel and waves and an arm wrapped around her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I never thought I'd ship Batman with anyone but Catwoman, but Bruce and Diana would make a really cute couple. I hope the movies do well enough that we get to see their relationship go somewhere.


End file.
